Tammy Lynn Michaels’ children with Melissa Etheridge will be lucky to get a stocking full of rocks and a bag full of dirt for Christmas, because a certain lesbian Grinch hasn’t paid up. Tammy Lynn is infamous for spitting out some rambling poetry that reads like something Miss Venezuela would write if she got a job writing e-mail spam in English, and she’s done it again. Tammy Lynn is still whining about money and this time she’s crying about how every time she goes to the mailbox to see if her check has finally arrived, the only thing she sees is an empty hole that is bigger than the hole Melissa left in her heart when a new box of dicks landed on her kitchen counter years ago.
Tammy Lynn Michaels currently gets $23,000 a month in child support and she also gets 50% of the royalties for all the songs Melissa wrote during the 9 years they were together. I guess Melissa doesn’t pay Tammy Lynn through automatic direct deposit, because the money takes its time getting to her ass. Radar points out that a couple of days ago, Tammy Lynn posted a melodramatic poem on her blog about how there’s no presents under the tree this year, because Melissa hasn’t sent a check yet. Girl is always so EXTRA.
fascinating you know— secrets, they are. People, places, things and accounts, houses, waived rights AND relationships, money —-secrets are sick—a sign of an illness within—disease—playing games with money—phoney baloney—hide and seek—can you find the ball under the clam shell? —christmas is coming—chase the check—chase the check —chase the check—can’t —catch it—oh watch the girl go—empty stockings and tiny boxes—-don’t worry– —i’ll teach them what’s important—nothing close to —what i have to chase in the stupid mail box—but rather—what is in the heart—which could never–never never ever be found in a mail box anyway…………… millionaires in their mansions—-tricking with trusts—-hiding money from Paul behind Peter—–just to steal from the minor in the end—-integrity is a mystery in—-the town of gold dust—-pyrite—fool’s gold —-at times i do feel——as narcissistic as this sounds—that i might be the only —one—with a moral compass —-this side of the Indiana State Line. —tell me it’s not true—-no—-show me—-show me—-someone show me it’s not true…………
I’m truly impressed that Tammy Lynn was able to type out this work of woeful poetry while trying to shake the cold off of her body (because her heat was turned off) and trying to type in a candlelit dark room (because her electricity was turned off) and trying to drown out the sound of her kids powering her laptop by running on treadmills. Tammy Lynn is so strong!
The Toys For Tots truck should redirect their route and drive away from the orphanage and drive toward Tammy Lynn’s house, because her kids are the ones who really have nothing. The Salvation Army Santa Claus should leave his red can full of donations on Tammy Lynn’s doorstep, because she’s the one who really needs it.
If Melissa really ain’t sending those checks, Tammy Lynn needs to stop crying through her fingers, get up and do something about it. Go down to that lesbian Grinch’s house and tear the porch light off of the house, because that’s worth something I’m sure. Yank the rims off of the car parked on the driveway, because that’s definitely worth some cash. Pull out the trees, because she can get something for that too. Get that money however you need to get it.
Or, since Tammy Lynn is so damn thirsty, she can just sing this song on a street corner for spare change:
But then Tammy Lynn will have to pay royalties and ALL of it will go to Melissa since she wrote it before they got together. Damn that lesbian Grinch!